Living the Nightmare
by NickL4Dolas
Summary: Nick is now Infected, but he's still on the survivors' side. Following on from Immunity is Gone. Nick x Rochelle :D Chapter 2 in progress!


Living the Nightmare

(Contains Nick x Rochelle! :p)

[Carrying on from my last fanfic, where Nick is a Common Infected]

{Things about Nick's past and stuff not mentioned on the website or game are of my own concoction.}

.: I DO NOT OWN LEFT 4 DEAD 2 OR ANYTHING AFFILIATED WITH THEM. I WISH I OWNED VALVE BUT OH WELL. IF I OWNED VALVE I WOULD BE BUSY MAKING LEFT 4 DEAD 3!:.

.:Summary of 'Immunity is Gone' - Ellis and Nick split from Coach and Rochelle, so they can meet up later in a safe room. Nick and Ellis bond, but then Nick regrets it. Meanwhile, Rochelle is worrying about the other two. Later, Nick gets sudden pain, and realizes he is turning into a a Common Infected. Him and Ellis race to the safe room, where Ellis finally tells them. Nick blacks out as the safe room door is blasted down. When he finally wakes, he is Infected. The other three are gone, but he tracks them down. While he is searching, Coach is trying to dig Rochelle and Ellis out from rubble after an accidental pipe bomb detonation. Nick arrives, revealing he was always going to be a Common Infected. As they go to leave, a Tank smashes through the wall. They are separated ...

Chapter 1: Death comes calling

Nick tottered up, coughing blood.

What now? But as he thought this he heard a voice, and he turned to see-

"Nick," Rochelle said weakly. He saw her hand, outstretched. It was trembling, her other arm and legs trapped beneath the rocks and bricks the Tank had hit.

"Help ... me ..."

He lunged past a chunk of rock tossed at him and grasped her hand, his dead skin brushing her dark skin; as his hand gripped her hand, the other scooped rocks away like a paddle. He continuously glanced over his shoulder, worrying that the Tank was approaching. He was horrified to see Ellis, sling waving, as the Savannah kid tried to hack at the Tank with his machete. Coach was sprawled on the floor. Motionless. His eyes were shut from the pain. Blood sluggishly trickled from his mouth and the cavity in his chest where the Tank had punched him.

"Coach!" Rochelle cried. "Oh my god. He- he isn't dead?!" She supported herself with Nick's shoulder, panting. "Hey, Nick, I guess you do have a heart ... a heart of gold, even if you're Infected." Ellis gave a yell as he stumbled over Coach's prone form. He fell, and the Tank headed towards him.

"Hey, you piece of shit! OVER HERE!" Nick roared, putting Rochelle down and racing towards the Tank. His fingers fumbled as he drew his assault rifle.

His eyes narrowed and he ran at the Tank, firing as hard as he could-

The wind was knocked from him as a Tank corpse slammed full on into him, knocking him backwards. Nick shoved it off, growling. Rochelle limped up.

"Are you okay?" she cried. He gave a breathless nod, and she rushed off to help Ellis up, since he had landed on his sprained wrist and damaged it again. Then they stood forlornly around Coach, who was breathing shallowly.

The man who had been a father to them; the man who had accepted them and put up with every challenge; Ellis' fellow Savannah guy. And he was practically dead. It was such a waste, the way a person suffered for so long, then were snuffed out in a single blow. Coach was lucky. Rochelle bit back tears, leaning on Nick's shoulder, since she was so tired and aching. He looked at her, emotion roiling in his bottomless green eyes.

"We need somewhere to stay," he said gravely.

The fire was crackling, the old branches splitting and warping from the heat, sending off a pungent smoke from the burning sap.

"Would jumping in a fire end my misery?" Nick muttered caustically. He watched a spark shoot out, gyrating until it landed smouldering on his wrist. The cold of his skin put out the tiny orange light.

"No," Rochelle answered thickly. She had taken Coach's near-to death experience harder than Ellis had: although Coach was from Savannah like Ellis, and had shared interests like the Midnight Riders, the man had been like a father to Rochelle. He didn't annoy her like Ellis occasionally did, nor did he complain like Nick had. He had been so close to her, and he had been so close to death

"I ... I'm sorry I was always so cold. So sarcastic, cynical, critical, self-obsessed - such a jerk!" Nick exclaimed. Rochelle scooted up to him, smiling. She nestled her head in his shoulder, dark hair brushing his cheek.

"It's okay," she admitted. They listened to the crackle of the fire and Coach and Ellis' steady breathing, before getting up and settling down to sleep. Nick looked across the fire to Rochelle.

"Uh, Rochelle?" he mumbled.

"Yeah?" came the sleepy reply.

"Nothing." She didn't see the private smile he gave as she fell asleep. Being Infected, he didn't need sleep. He lay awake, contemplating the events of the day.

"Wow," Nick murmured dryly, "this had been one hell of a day."

When Rochelle awoke, she saw Nick standing in the diluted dawn sun. He was squinting at the window, hands in his pockets. He seemed troubled. She sat up.

"Nick?" He turned to see her, hair tousled, pink Depeche Mode shirt creased. She ran a hand through her dark hair, adjusting the ponytail.

"Yeah?" he replied.

"It's just ... you seem kinda preoccupied."

"Oh, no, I'm fine. Don't worry, Ro."

Ellis sat up, his tawny Bull-Shifters shirt rumpled. He grabbed his cap with the car-scrap-removal symbol, shoving it on his head. He scratched the skin around his tattoo - his healing arm was itchy - before approaching Coach. The man was breathing more regularly now, not shallowly; he seemed in less pain. The bleeding had already ceased when Ellis got fresh bandages.

Nick turned. His eyes were more feral, glinting red and green when he held his head in certain ways. His fingers were tipped with small claws, his teeth more jagged. But his attitude didn't seem any different.

His brown hair was disheveled, his suit ruined. Yet Nick didn't care about these small problems anymore.

All he cared about was staying with his friends, and - the irony - staying alive.


End file.
